Chapter 6 Visitors

They were up before the crack of dawn. The feel of the cold night rain lingered in the air in the form of a thin mist that put the senses on a numb alert. With the expanding grey overcast, the sun had yet to rise to paint the streets of Walhia in their proper light. Buildings that were clustered together wrought with steel and stone alike and stood much taller than any from their home of Crandon. A home they would be returning to shortly.

When Ephram agreed to hear out their proposition, he listened without interruption. It wasn’t until after that he proposed the idea of just going alone and retrieving the lost box of heirlooms himself. Logically, it made sense but Marik had disagreed.

“Wouldn’t it seem suspicious if one of your officers found you wandering on your own or coming back with something that doesn’t align with your mission?” Marik had asked. “You don’t even know where to look.” He was one to talk on that front.

Ephram hadn’t liked it and Mackenzie seemed inclined to side with the military man, too. After mulling over some of the other aspects, Ephram had seemed to agree, albeit reluctantly. He then told them that if they were to do this, they would have to be early to get to the rendezvous point near the city’s eastern gate.

So, the first thing they did in the morning was request a day of discharge from the hospital under the guise of wanting to see their military friend off and get some fresh air within the city. A precaution if their mother asked where they had gone off to. And after a few signed forms and words from Dr. Rechter, they were given their requested leave.

The agreed-upon rendezvous was near the eastern gate. It was relatively close to their current hospital of residence so there was no immediate rush. By that hour of the mourning, there was next to no crowd or traffic cluttering the street. Most of the activity came from members of the militia themselves stationed along both sides of the road. Even without the relief effort today, Marik suspected they might still be posted to those spots. A majority of the buildings lining the outer perimeter of the city were military designated. Tall, square, and flat. Completely conforming uniform. But that paled to what the city truly held in her center. Or so he had heard.

They spotted Ephram by himself near a series of crates that seemed ready to be loaded into one of six convoys. He flagged them over and away from any prying eyes of military personnel or civilians who had woken up this early to actually see their loved ones off.

“You actually woke up this early? Maybe this is more serious than I thought.” His expression didn’t match his tone. Mackenzie brushed some hair back.

“All the more reason to hurry this up so I can take a well-deserved nap.”

“It’s either this or risk it getting tossed away if someone else finds it,” Ephram stated. “Anyway,” he continued on. “You’ll be riding in the same one as me, so once we unload I’ll make sure we can be isolated. Just be sure to show the Major your citizen ID. No strings can get that overlooked.”

From a mounted speaker near the gate, a command was given for all final supplies to be loaded up. The soldiers began a hurried process of team lifting and preparing for their imminent departure.

“The lieutenant is that way,” Ephram nodded in the direction. A small crowd of non-military personnel was gathered over that way. “Looks like he’ll be the one you’ll be needing to talk to. Once you’re done, meet me back here. I’ve got to finish loading some cargo.”

Marik nodded. “Got it. And… thanks.” The soldier gave a wry half-smile and nodded.

“Hey, you two!” Ephram’s voice shouted over to a pair of soldiers. “Come give me a hand with these crates.”

“Too heavy for the volunteer team?” one soldier asked.

“Maybe that’s why the delivery team just left it there,” Ephram’s voice answered. “Those guys don’t want to do any actual heavy lifting.” There was some light chuckling in clear agreement.

Taking their leave, the two Kaisers headed over to where the lieutenant was looking over a few reports after he gave an all-clear to the latest civilian. Looking over at the assembled crowd of volunteer help, Marik figured there to be not even two dozen altogether. Some faces he recognized as being a few Crandon residents, people he had serviced while still under Vern’s employment.

The others were completely new to him. There were a few young men in the mix, but a majority of them seemed to be women of varying ages clad in white robes and purple hoods. They were women of faith. The Sooths of Eluhin, and seeing them made Marik consider just stowing away instead of risking sitting next to one of them.

Unlike some of the pastors like Son Josef, the Sooths hardly spoke unless necessary, or while singing songs. But just as the pastor practiced, they always just looked directly into people’s eyes, no matter the circumstance, and most of the time they were completely silent when doing so. The older women especially seemed to have an innate gift of not blinking at all and more closely resembled a walking corpse than a living human.

Marik tore his eyes away from the haunting sight of those women and over to the lieutenant.

“Volunteers?” the military man asked, his attention on them now.

Clearing his throat, Marik replied. “Yes. Er, yes, sir.”

The man looked them both over. “Identification, please.”

They handed their respective citizen cards over for him to properly examine. After looking at their information, he sorted through some papers and gave his signature on a couple. He then waved over a younger soldier who presented him with a familiar box shape.

“Standard test for Lundermann’s disease. Pull your lower eyelids down so we can proceed.”

Marik went first, fighting the twitching he felt as he forced his lid farther down than it was meant. It wasn’t long before he felt the tiny puff and the lieutenant gave him the all-clear. A couple of seconds later, Mackenzie was approved.

“Sir, we came from one of the hospitals here,” she stated after completing the test. “I thought the test was applicable when entering a border, not when exiting.”

“A precautionary measure, miss,” the lieutenant replied. “With the influx of refugees, it was a priority to properly allocate any injured to a medical center. Given the severity of their circumstances, it was not possible to test everyone upon entry. New policies have been mandated since.”

Nodding her head, Mackenzie thanked him for the answer.

The lieutenant directed their attention over to the assembled military convoy. “The middle row of transports are permitting volunteers to board,” he informed. “Soldiers will be riding alongside and will be monitoring you while on this excursion. Do you both understand?”

They both affirmed and were properly dismissed and made to go find Ephram who was finishing up loading the last of the crates. Before meeting with their military acquaintance, Marik decided to ask.

“Are you sure you don’t want to back out now? When mom finds out, I’d come up with a way to cover for you.”

Shaking her head, she told him, “I’d be scolded even worse if you went it your own.”

“Ready for departure?” a muffled voice called into the back. A chorus of affirmative replies sounded out and the order was given. A vibration swept across the back bed followed by a powerful rumble from a spot near the front. And then they were moving.

It was slow going at first, the military loves its ordered formation, but once they had cleared Walhia’s gates, Marik was grateful that their confinement was sturdy. The driver had obviously been given orders to make great haste along with the rest of the convoy. It felt strange.

Not the confinement they were currently in, that was more uncomfortable than anything. No, it had more to do with just how quiet it seemed to be. Talking with Mackenzie was out of the question but nothing was stopping Ephram or any of the others from striking up a conversation. Typically Marik preferred the quiet but the silence of the soldiers did not offer any reassurance. This was not a trip to war, just relief and rescue. But then it hit him.

He had not seen what had become of Crandon after he had been incapacitated. Whatever sight awaited them could be far worse than rushing off to battle somewhere. Perhaps Ephram knew this and was purposefully avoiding the topic with the rest. Or perhaps the threat of another Matanian attack was more prevalent than what was believed and they were just waiting for the right moment to strike. The Mataians had not had much in the way of sympathy when civilians had been involved.

Cold hands clutched at Marik’s stomach and a fire sparked within his lungs as he tried his best to just focus his attention. It wasn’t that hard. He considered sending a quick prayer to the DON that whatever they may find in that box, that some foresight is included as well. Or perhaps that was the wrong thought.

Sitting directly across from him on the wooden bench was one of the sooths. An elderly woman, perhaps of age or older than Mrs. McGlauchlen. Her hooded robes hid her features well, but not her eyes. Never the eyes. Sure enough, her gaze was locked straight ahead. Straight at Marik.

No matter how much he averted his gaze, he could feel the cool grey of the woman piercing into him. Even as the back of the convoy rattled and jostled with its movement, the woman seemingly remained firmly rooted to her seat, unwavering.

Marik found that his feet had never seemed more interesting than they were right now. The faux leather of his boots was starting to show signs of wear, especially after the attack. Both he and Mackenzie hadn’t a change of clothing, excluding whatever hospital supplied. He was left with nothing but his boots, dark trousers, blue tunic, and brown cardigan. Perhaps he could treat Mackenzie to a day of shopping once they were back in Walhia. Turning to look at her, Marik made the mistake of glancing toward the old sooth.

The old woman leaned forward on her bench, giving Marik a better look at her wrinkled and spotted face. In a few more years, she’d fully resemble a human raisen. Her pruny hand lifted and Marik was prepared to swat it away. Instead she reached for her neck to tuck a pendant chain back in place after they had struck a bump in the road.

That was when she spoke.

“A generous god we have. Blessed are we to live in this time.” She was the only one to speak thus far. Naturally, all eyes went to her. “Blessed are all those who believe. That angelic being will lead us from the corrupted son.”

With that, she said no more. She folded her hands on her lap and continued to stare steadfast. It came to the point Marik wished she would speak up again. Almost anything would be better than her just staring at his form. So much to wish for. So much to be forsaken.

His eagerness seemed to have provoked a cruel blessing as time seemed to have almost quickened. When Marik felt the transport begin to slow, Ephram sent a subtle kick to his shin. They seem to have arrived in a little over half the time it would have normally taken a trip from Walhia. They were home.

Muffled shouting was heard from outside and the shuffling of boots became the primary source of sound. A command was given for all soldiers to exit first to secure the area. Marik spied the outlines of people from beyond the covered bed.

“Volunteers!” a commanding voice called. “You may now exit.”

Ephram was waiting for them at the end of the transport. He extended a hand and helped to pull Mackenzie out before doing the same to Marik.

He instantly squinted at the sun poking out from behind a cloudy sky, followed by a large inhale to take in the relatively fresh air. There wasn’t much time to get his bearings as Ephram had already grabbed him by the collar and was dragging him and Mackenzie along to the nearby assembly rather awkwardly considering their legs had fallen asleep during the ride. They stood in line before a man who had taken command.

He was of average height, but his hat and plumage added half a foot. A bushy, brown mustache covered his upper lip and to where it joined at his sideburns. His uniform was blue along with the rest of Walhia’s forces, but more medals and a yellow sash adorned his attire.

“Brave souls.” His voice was deceptively squeaky. “I am Major Smidge. I stand before you on the grounds of war. No doubt there are some amongst us who once knew this place as home. That isn’t how the Matanians saw it. That is not how they will see it.” He began to pace in a line.

“It is true that the enemy forces withdrew after their initial assault, but they still occupy land beyond the eastern gate. Our scouts have set up a perimeter around the town and will raise an alarm should another attack commence.” He halted. “Our objective is not to engage the enemy should they return. We prioritize locating and extracting any persons or items of interest. Due to constraints, all volunteers must be escorted by military officials. Am I understood?”

A collective of, “Yes, sir,” answered. The major nodded.

“Very well. We are all to reconvene here in half an hour. Dismissed!”

Ephram approached from behind, observing the rest of the convey being unloaded and assembled. “Stay here. I’ll go find the major and ask permission to scout with the both of you.”

“Nngh!” Marik lightly groaned as he stretched his neck which was oppressed by a stiff vice. He tried curling his fingers but was met with a faintly warm numbness. His leg, meanwhile, seemed to vibrate with every minuscule pulse.

“It hurts to stand but I’m afraid of what’ll happen if I sit back down,” Mackenzie muttered as she straightened her back and rolled her head to clear any pins and needles.

Footsteps were coming their way and Ephram made his way back. After checking to see how they were holding up he gave them the run-down of what was going on. “I hope you remember where this thing is.”

“Where are we right now?” Marik asked. If he knew, he could roughly predict how long it would take.

“A few streets from the Western entrance,” Ephram responded. “The major wanted us close to the station so we could get communications up and running.” If that was the case, they were only a few streets away!

“Alright,” Marik nodded. “I know where to go.”

Upon exiting an alley, Marik finally realized why the air felt so different. Remnants of smoke were still lingering in the air from beneath piles of domesticated rubble. Metal casing lay discarded at their feet and the usual cobblestone roads had been stained with a fainted lively red. It hadn’t been noticeable near the gate, but that was probably as far as the Matanians had gotten before the counterattack.

Beyond that was a smoldering graveyard preserved in festive ash and scrap. This was Crandon now.

He knew this street and the one that it intersected with. He wished that he didn’t. Those stains on the road could have belonged to any of their neighbors whom they had known all their lives. A tourist who had just been passing through would be here forever. Kids looking to run and play would never have to worry about growing up.

“Are you scared?” Ephram asked, giving him a light shake.

“No,” Marik rubbed it aside, feeling his head tingle. “Just getting my bearings.”

“Really?” Ephram questioned. “I would be if I were you.” He unshouldered his rifle for good measure. Marik shook his head.

“No need to go and - hey, Mackenzie!” His sister was already heading off along the street.

“I remember the way, too. Time limit, remember?” She didn’t halt her trot, but she didn’t quicken her pace either. They jogged to catch up to her.

The walk was silent, for the most part. Cries from cawing crows beckoned from the tops of nearly every building that was still standing. It was unspoken, but the trio was thankful it was only crows. Ephram led the way, following the directions provided. His finger wasn’t on the trigger, but the way he was lightly tapping it against the rifle indicated he was anticipating just about anything. When a bell chimed behind them, Ephram was quick to whirl around, ready to shoot.

“Wait!” Mackenzie held up her hands. The figure approached in a daze. Marik recognized him. It was Son Josef.

The preacher had obviously seen better days. His robes were tarnished and stained at the hems, he was barefoot and left a trail of red in his stumbling wake; but it was his eyes that seemed the most fazed. They were wide open showing no signs of blinking in the slightest. Heavy bags hung under them as they fixed straight ahead not taking in a single thing.

“...are one with your divine presence. Your song resonates across the stars of mind and oceans of time. We wait patiently to stand in the light of your glory once again. Guide us, our DON, our god Eluhin. Let your presence be felt in the hearts and minds across all of Ebross. We beckon thee.” He recited the passage from memory as he went about ringing his bell.

Ephram hurried over to stop him, grabbing Son Josef’s shoulders and trying to get his attention. The holy man didn’t regard him in the slightest and continued to try and continue along his path. “One of you, grab his bell. We don’t want him causing a racket.”

Mackenzie snatched it from his hands once Marik pried it open. Even after he released the man, Son Josef continued to flick his wrist in the same consistent motion. “What are we going to do with him?”

“We’ll have to bring him back, eventually,” Ephram decided. “By the look of it, he’s basically walking from memory, look.” He gestured to the red trail Son Josef was leaving. It was messy, but there was a rhythm to it. “Chances are we’ll be able to find him after you get what you came for. Right?” Seeing what he was getting at, they let go of Son Josef. The preacher continued on his merry way, ringing his missing bell and reciting passages of prayer in his morose wake.

There was a bit of melancholy to that sight. Even if Marik went out of his way to ignore the preacher wherever possible, he didn’t have any ill will towards the man. Perhaps Eluhin above would grant them a bit of favor by saving the life of one of his sons.

Alone once again, the trio continued along their own path. The sights held vertigo of remembrance the further along they walked. Marik was actually a bit glad that they would not be passing by their house. He didn’t really know what he would think if he saw it in ruin. There were too many memories of that place that he’d rather keep the image he had of it untarnished.

He glanced over to Mackenzie. Her expression was neutral and that was one Marik always had discerning. Was she perhaps feeling the same? If she had her way, they wouldn’t even be here, she was doing this for his benefit. He resolved to make it up to her once they were back in Walhia. Perhaps if he could scrounge up enough money, he’d be able to afford a nice present for her.

“Here it is.” Mackenzie halted in the street.

We’re here. A feeling of phantom pain stirred within as he took in the sight. The street was largely blocked by the expanse of debris that had been tossed aside in a deadly tantrum. Wood, stone, and glass were jumbled together to make an artistic mockery. A military wagon lay on its side, the driver's cab having been crushed inward. Bodies of soldiers were closely scattered around, most were shot clean though. Ephram knelt by one who was clutching bundled sticks of explosives.

“Sorry,” he apologized to the fallen. “These might not have done you much good, but we’ll see if that'll be any use to us.”

“Are you planning on blasting our way through all of this?” Mackenzie eyed the explosives.

“That might destroy whatever it is you’re looking for. Just taking it as a precaution of sorts.” He tied it to his belt. “Now, let’s get to sorting this mess.”

Together, they started carving through the expanse that lay before them. It was tedious, for sure, Marik could tell that they’d all be developing blisters by the end of it. He wished that the gift he and Mackenzie shared had the power to just move all of this aside to make things easier. Granted, that’d be a hard thing to pass off in front of Ephram, but maybe if Mackenzie distracted him for a bit he’d theoretically be able to get away with it. Only their father would know for certain, and they were getting close now. The feeling was almost tangible.

“Over here,” Mackenzie waved them over to where she was working.

“You found it?” Marik asked, sliding down to her.

“No, but I recognize this spot. This is where mom was… pinned. It can’t be too far.” Indeed, there looked to be a hole from where Mackenzie had cleared previously to free their mother. The stones underneath held stains of proof.

Marik set to work without response, tossing rock, wood, and a pile of ash behind him. He barely registered the glass that cut him from thumb to palm - that was something that could be treated back at the hospital after they returned to their mother. Mackenzie kept a keen gaze next to him.

“Hold on!” She halted his progress. “See that there?” She pointed to a crevice which an angled piece of wood was protruding from.

“What’re you looking at?” Ephram squeezed next to them, following the direction of her finger. “That? Looks like infrastructure wood to me.”

“That’s it,” Marik knew. “It has to be.” Ephram was not impressed.

“You just know?” he questioned. He shrugged. “Far be it from me to call you a liar.” He went to grab a wooden beam and wedged the end in the crevice. He beckoned Marik to him on the other end of the makeshift fulcrum.

“On my mark put as much weight down as you can,” Ephram instructed. “This’ll be a good opportunity to build up some muscle.” With a wordless glare, Marik stood opposite him and awaited Ephram’s word. “Ready? Now!”

The force started in his arms, but the crunch he felt from his core emulated across his shoulders and back. In turn, his legs felt light and wobbly as they were momentarily relieved of duty. Together, he and Ephram raised the slab of rock enough for Mackenzie to rush in and quickly snag the intended target. A gasp of air escaped from his lungs when they released their hold on the fulcrum.

“Well?” Ephram asked, cleaning his hands on his uniform pants. “Was it worth it?” She brushed some dust and soot off the top.

“Yes. This is it, alright.”

The once polished wood was stained with grime and several chips and fractures had occurred from the fall and surrounding heat so Marik was astonished it was still in that fine of a condition. With any luck, whatever was inside wasn’t damaged. He accepted the box from Mackenzie’s hands and stashed it away in their travel bag next to the key. Ephram’s demeanor changed for the better.

“Well, how about that?! Plenty of time to spare, too. C’mon. Let’s go nab Son Josef and get back to the rendezvous.”

They had done it. And from within his bag, only a new weight was added.

Following the trail of bodily life Son Josef left behind, the trio found themselves heading toward the southern part of the town where the preacher had been the day of the attack. Compared to some of the more central-based structures, the ones here didn’t appear too badly marred from the invasion. It still lost the lively feeling that had been present, but Marik was at least thankful for greater familiarity. They stopped at what appeared to be a whole roof that had been torn clean off of a nearby house.

“Looks like the trail goes off that way,” Ephram pointed over to the south square where Son Josef sat on his knees with arms reaching for the heavens. “Maybe we gave him less credit than he deserved.”

“Who knows,” Mackenzie shrugged. “Maybe the DON has granted his prayers.” How ironic that would be.

Before they could fully move to the square, a hop from the ground caught Marik’s attention. It was a pebble. He would have brushed it aside if it hadn’t moved again. The vibration came again just a few seconds after this time accompanied by soft thunder. When Ephram turned to face them, his face was impassive but his brown eyes conveyed what they were all feeling.

He grabbed the two of them by their wrists and ran with them back to the fallen roof where he pushed them and slid behind it for cover. The soft rumble had evolved into an orchestra of thuds. Ephram signaled for them to stay quiet as he unslung the rifle from his shoulder. When the next wave rolled over, Marik felt his feet shake in tandem. They crouched down lower. Their ears beat the same tune from below. When next the thunder came, it sent rumbles throughout their skulls.

It was coming. Marik didn’t know what, but it was.

Another one. His legs curled in.

Another one.

A small hole allowed him a vision beyond their shelter. Rounding the corner of the square was a person.

He was only about thirty yards away and the uniform he wore was not any of Tamaples design. The black color was accentuated by a fine gold trim and a half-shoulder cloak. His dark hair was neatly parted to form a sharp midnight curtain and the red of his cloak complimented his equally colored eyes in a cruel fashion. Yet despite the nonchalant blaise look in his eyes, he seemed quite young, maybe about two years older than Mackenzie and himself.

Whoever this man was, he didn’t appear to have noticed them. He just stood where he was, his eyes scanning over Son Josef and around the seemingly deserted square. Marik ducked his head when he felt the man’s gaze linger over to where they were. The only sound was that of their rhythmic breathing.

“Come on,” the man’s voice cut the silence. He knew they were here; somehow, he had to. He wanted to believe that maybe the man was talking to the kneeling preacher, but the voice was not directed to the ground. When Marik’s heart skipped a beat, the rumble resumed. Something big was coming.

When it rounded the corner, Marik figured it had to be at least sixteen feet tall, its sinewy, dark body covered in muscle. The torso was humanoid, save for the hands which ended in a tri-clawed hand. The legs had the shape of a goat but with scales and feet of a lizard, perhaps a crocodile. A forked tail rested behind, each end coming to a barbed point. But it was the head that created the biggest feeling of unease. It had a skullish appearance with pointed ram horns framing the side of its face. No lips covered the wide maw, letting the fangs be on full display. A single eye sat vertically in the center, blood-red sclera surrounded cold blue that froze a slit pupil. The single eye took everything in, an inescapable void that never shut, piercing the very air with its gaze.

A second man walked alongside the towering monstrosity. His uniform was mainly red with white sashes. His curly hair was short and complimented well his darker tan complexion.

The dark uniformed man paid little more than a passing glance at the Ogromm that appeared before him; he instead stared down at the kneeling preacher. “On your knees already? Has terror already cowed a man of belief?” Son Josef did not appear to hear the man, continuing on reciting his lines.

“Hm? Oh. The seeds of devotion have bloomed into a fallen tree. I see.” He snapped his fingers and pointed down towards Son Josef. The Ogromm pinched the preacher’s head between its claws with gentle dominance and lifted him off the ground.

A Matanian. Whatever method they had at seemingly controlling those divine animals was on full display with the Ogromm staring down at its master, a trained dog awaiting an order.

“Rather pitiful, isn’t it?” he asked rhetorically. “This place actually seemed a quaint little place to live. I can’t say I relate but evidently, not everyone thinks the same as I.” He kicked a stone across the square, perhaps imagining some pretend goal.

“Charming, indeed,” the second agreed. “Surprising it lasted as long as it did. Those soldiers posted were less than ill-prepared.”

The one in the dark uniform unsheathed the palest blade Marik had ever seen and casually smacked another bit of debris away. “Amateurs. Not even worth sullying my energy.”

“In time, perhaps?” the second asked. “No doubt you’ll have an opportunity to face that bastard.”

The first said nothing; just sheathed his blade. He looked up to where the Ogromm held Son Josef by the head.

“Still reciting? You know, where I come from it's considered rude to talk over people, especially when they’re your betters. Wouldn’t you agree?” He was obviously toying with Josef but there was no way he actually expected an answer to his question. It wasn’t Son Josef that answered.

“You already know.”

“Tch!” the Matanian man scoffed. “You could at least play along. It certainly wouldn’t kill you to do so.”

“To play is not why I accompany you.” Ephram’s hands were shaking, unsure of the situation.

“Yes, yes, I know perfectly well,” the man dejectedly agreed. “Still, one babbling buffoon is hardly a worthy find.”

“On that, we agree.”

“-that we may be as one at-,”

Son Josef’s words ended abruptly and Marik heard what could have been a grape getting squashed. A shadow flew by overhead and the body fell to the ground with an unceremonious thud.

“Ah,” the man sighed. “Quiet at last.” A low growl came from the Ogromm. The second cocked his head. “If you’ve something to say, say it. No one’s going to be talking over you.”

“We waste our time. Scavenging and crushing mere peasants isn’t of any consequence. Our focus is in the wrong.”

“The troops needn’t know that,” the man decided. “Are you suggesting we move on the capital now? Heh! I must say, I’m impressed. Perhaps our query does lay there.”

“The general would disapprove of your haste, young Master Julian.”

“Without a doubt,” the man now known as Julian said. “But if my suspicion is correct, my uncle won’t care as long as the results are the same.”

The pieces had fallen in place. Dark hair and red eyes; family in control of the military, this man was Julian Makaro.

Since their family was foreign and extremely private, only a few key names were available for public record and taught in school. Julian was the first born of Lukas Makaro, the apparent head of the family and the one who dealt with foreign policies and negotiations. The uncle he mentioned must have been Tiberius Makaro, the one who was head of their military forces. But what would draw the attention of a Makaro to a place like Crandon?

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“Meaning?” Julian questioned, not sounding too pleased with the vague reply.

“The future remains uncertain. Use your senses.”

“Tch! Well, the air is a bit stuffy, I do feel a sneeze coming soon.”

“When it does, maybe it will give you clairvoyance. Come. Let us join the bulk of our party once more.”

A fleshy tear scratched the air and Marik’s eye sought out the commotion. Two slits had opened on the Ogromm’s back and a pair of leathery wings expanded out. And on the back of its head was a brown, horizontal eye. One that gazed in his direction. He pulled his head back but it was too late.

“Offer me your hand, already,” Julian ordered the beast. “I don’t feel like climbing up to your shoulder. The Ogromm had yet to move. “What is it?”

The ground shook as the behemoth turned to face their hiding spot. Julian and the second man frowned. Following the cycloptic line of sight, Julian placed his hand upon the ground. After a heartbeat, he withdrew his hand and readied his pale blade.

Ephram seemed torn between wanting to shoot this new threat or trying to make a run for it. Both the Ogromm and Julian would be upon them soon. Perhaps they would meet the same fate as Son Josef.

Hot ice gripped his heart and Marik pulled the explosives from Ephram’s belt before the soldier could realize what he had done. Touching his fingers to the fuse, Marik felt the heat at his tips and that golden fire began to sizzle its way down. He tossed it over his shoulder and toward where the enemy advanced.

There was a hurried shuffle as the Ogromm swept Julian up in its claws and clutched the Makaro close to its chest as the detonation exploded in their path. A plume of smoke obscured the scene and it was enough to snap Ephram to his senses.

“South exit, now!” he instructed as they booked it out of the square.

“Ambush!” Julian yelled behind them. “Call the others!”

“Ggggggggrrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhh!” the Ogromm released a blood-chilling roar, but it did not pursue them. It seemed to value Julian’s safety more than pursuing a rogue group.

And so they ran.